A Dismal Memory
by LucyMint
Summary: A birthday present with a memory!


Hello! This is my first Sherlock Holmes FanFiction, ever! And it was a terribly hard thing to write -.- So please go easy on me, and if the timeline is a little off, I am very sorry! I am not that good when it comes to the time in Sherlock Holmes, it kind of confuses me =(

I do not own Sherlock Holmes in any way, that is Arthur Conan Doyle !

* * *

It was one quiet but rainy morning while Holmes were playing on his violin that I got this at that time brilliant but a hard to continue idea, I wanted to give him a birthday present...

_..._

_I went to my desk, took some papers out and was just about to get my pen when Holmes suddenly stopped his playing._

_I looked over my shoulder to look curiously over at Holmes who in turn was looking at me with a curious look, somehow my idea had been so abrupt to him that he hadn't been able to use his famous deduction abilities, or he simply weren't paying attention to my actions. My only response to his look was a sheepish smile and a continuation of my previous task, which proved to be rather hard since it turned out my pen had mysteriously disappeared!_

_While I was rather noisily looking through my desk drawers I asked rather annoyed « Holmes, you do not happen to know where my pen has gone off to?» _

_When I did not hear a response I asked again, more than a little irritated. I turned around to find Holmes sitting there with an amused smile while he was holding my pen._

_«Oh? So you found it!» This only made Holmes more amused but he did hand me my pen, to my relief. Sometimes I could simply not understand what he thought funny in any of his small pranks, they were like a small child having nothing to do. I had turned around and was about to begin my writing again when I noticed Holmes standing behind my back looking over my shoulder. «If you would mind, Holmes.» I said this while indicating my annoyance._

_«Don't be so grumpy, my dear friend» Said Holmes heartily, he went over to the sofa to sit down in his peculiar cat like way while he smoked on his favorite pipe analyzing,I am sure, about what I was about to write. He were not that hard to read after living with him for a while._

_I turned back around and began writing once again. I wanted this to be a surprise to Holmes._

_At least as long as I was able to keep it a surprise that is._

_I was just finished with my letter when Mrs. Hudson entered with a tray of tea. On her way out I asked if she would be so kind and post this letter for me._

_I turned around to see Holmes looking at me, he was just about to ask what the letter was about when I interrupted «Holmes, would you play on your violin for me?» My reason for this you must understand was not of evil intentions just a distraction. But if I wished this to be a surprise the subject at hand had to be skipped over, my acting abilities were unfortunately not as great as the famed Detective beside me._

_Besides, I think Holmes already got curious with me just writing the letter... Mostly because I would not let him read over my shoulder but some privacy was to be expected!_

_«Of course, any specifications?» Holmes spoke this like he would normally but his face showed he was in deep thought._

_«No, just play anything you feel like. This dreaded weather is taking a toll on my mood» There was no response but he began playing instead._

_He began playing a most delighted piece from Mozart, "Turkish" I believe the name was. It was light and held some pleasantness which was greatly appreciated when the weather were doing their little rain dance just outside drumming on our windows._

_The piece had to come to an end unfortunately and Holmes suddenly found his experiment set quite interesting so for the remaining of the evening we sat there in silence, each with our minds ful. _

_When the clock was 10 I had to say good night to my good friend since the weather had a bad influence on my wounded shoulder. Who now had been aching for a while now but it was begining to be too hard to ignore._

...

_The next morning there was a letter for me, as I had hoped. __Here was the answer to my letter from the day before and never have I been any more happy to receive an answer so quickly from Mycroft Holmes! __Well, I had found this beautiful painting of Reichenbach and this little casket where Sherlock Holmes could have his little trinkets and I had saved some money so there were no problem about buying it. __The only problem was how to get it delivered to the flat without Holmes knowing. And of course before his birthday, which I think I forgot to mention is tomorrow.._

_I had the pleasure in mentioning this to Mycroft Holmes yesterday in my letter and today my reply were laying here, right in front of me, shinning like a saint. __There were two letters. One explaining the so called rules I had to follow, which were not too hard to do, and the other that was supposed to be delivered to Holmes._

_I followed the directions in the letter down to the letter, but I think Holmes already knew what was going on, only he were kind enough to play along, and found out to my amusement that Mycroft Holmes required Holmes at his place precisely 2 o'clock._

_The rest went smoothly and I can proudly say that the gift came safely home and was tucked securely in linen under my bed in my room. __Now it was only to wait patiently for Holmes to return and tell us his tale, which I have to admit, I am quite curious over what is._

_I could hear the stomping up the stairs to our flat and when he opened the door you could easily hear him grumbling to himself sullenly. _"_Watson, next time you get a letter from Mycroft, throw it in the fire!" My only response of course is to chuckle, what else am I to say or do?_

_I checked the clock and it was nearing 7 o'clock and just on time Mrs. Hudson came in with our supper and a birthday cake to Holmes which we ate later only to find out that it was too sweet for Holmes so most of it were not even touched. Such a pity if I have to say so, it looked so delicious._

_When Holmes were busy experimenting I sneaked myself up stairs and got the present at the same time as I made myself ready for bed._

_I sneaked back down and placed the gift on his chair he used to sit in, only to sneak back up again with a slight smile on my face._

_The next morning were as usual but when you looked over the hearth you could easily see the painting of Reichenbach being proudly shown off to the clients comming in to apartment. __And when you looked closer at his untidy desk you could see the casket I gave him, it warmed my heart he would use them. Even though you could see he used them you could also see he treasured them._

...

Still, looking back at it now brings forth unbearably sad memoirs...


End file.
